


Nothing more. Nothing less.

by MechanicusBob



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Dragon Age: Inquisition Spoilers, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-09 02:38:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17993273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MechanicusBob/pseuds/MechanicusBob
Summary: Set during the timeline following the disappearance of the Inquisitor during In Hushed Whispers.





	Nothing more. Nothing less.

**Author's Note:**

> Set during the timeline following the disappearance of the Inquisitor during In Hushed Whispers.

His mind burned and his twisted body screamed as Tormen stalked the deep roads; even Rage had long since abandoned him to his fate. The red spines and clusters that polluted his body and soul shone in the blackness, bathing the narrow walls in their pale light; how long had it been? Years? He couldn’t have remembered even if he tried anymore; not that there was anyone left to converse with anyway. There had been times when he would forget his own name for days on end.

Oghren and Nathaniel had been lost with Amaranthine, when Captain Barker of the city watch showed his corrupted colours upon his new master arriving at the gates of the city. Ever since the Inquisitor’s disappearance, Barker had infested the Guard’s ranks, from fresh recruits to grizzled veterans, with corruption and converts. Tormen could only laugh mockingly at his own blindness; he should have learned from his own years of creeping behind Greagoir: there was always something that the top wouldn’t see. There were others of course who had not been corrupted but their names were memories too distant to recall; one name remained clear however. One name that haunted him even now. Kara. She had been in Amaranthine on leave when the Magister played his hand and the ranks of his faithful slaughtered their former allies and opened the gates. She had fought shoulder to shoulder with the Wardens and Awakened but perished during the retreat from Vigil’s Keep; during the retreat, she had swallowed the tainted blood of one of Corypheus’ beasts as it sprayed from the fiend’s final wound. Quickly, the taint had taken hold and her death would have been many agonising hours away; as her strength faded she had begged Tormen to leave her. He refused. They both knew the only way to grant her peace. Her strength had been sapped and Tormen helped Kara lift the blade to her throat.

_'I love you.’_

Her final whisper had resounded against the walls of Tormen's mind for as long as he could now remember. His own words had been little more than a tearful whisper when Kara heard them and her blood stained the cold stone and Tormen prayed for the Maker to recieve her. Death had been inevitable and the only faint solace was that it was a better death than the taint or Corypheus would have granted. There had been occasions since when Tormen’s mind had warped reality and cast illusions within his own mind; sometimes he would hear her voice in caverns where the Veil had been worn thin, or he would see her spirit for a moment before reality would enforce itself upon Tormen once more. Following Kara’s death, the Wardens slowly but surely fell and the survivors had been forced to push ever onwards until only one remained.

Across the Veil, Kara’s heart would break each time she managed to glimpse Tormen; had she still possessed one. His lean form had grown angular and fragile; webbed veins of red lyrium sprawled beneath his skin; connecting the cruel spines that pierced outwards, stretching and contorting his shoulders and face even further. Where once a spark of joy and curiosity had filled his eyes, there was nothing. Now they were dull, bloodshot and set deep behind black bags. Only one thing remained the same, his golden wedding ring clung dutifully to his left hand. Nugs, assorted mushrooms, water from springs and underground lakes had barely sustained the forgotten hero for too long whilst his magic staved off the worst of having not seen the sun in… the Maker only knew how long. Little more than rags covered the corrupted, angular form beneath his cloak, and Lyrium slowly crept ever further across his skin, covering the backs of his hands and edged upon his face.

There were times when he would converse with himself as though there were still survivors around him and then there would be longer times of deafening silence; the Darkspawn had long since left the Deep Roads and ravaged the surface. Kara wished with all her being that her love would realise that it truly was her voice he heard when he edged towards lyrium veins; that it truly was her spirit he would glimpse in the corners of his vision wherever the veil grew thin. He had long since accepted that he was slowly losing his mind and presumed hallucinations to be yet another cruel symptom of his torment.

 

Tormen had no idea whether or not he was still being hunted; Corypheus may well have forgotten him entirely, or the beast may have lurked around the next corner. There was no way to know and fewer reasons to care, and yet he did. For a reason that almost escaped him, Tormen cared enough to stay constantly on the move. Corypheus had wanted him dead and so he would survive. The world above may have forgotten their hero, turned monster, that stalked the gloom beneath them but he would endure; stalking the darkness and preying on that which remained. Praying for deliverance from the false god above and the sprawling hell below; until the blessed day came Tormen vowed to survive. Nothing more. Nothing less. If only prove a macabre point to a foe who had scarcely acknowledged him when they met.


End file.
